


This is not a Fantasy

by Goldy



Category: Gossip Girl
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Melodrama, ugh this show
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-06
Updated: 2013-07-06
Packaged: 2017-12-17 20:25:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/871606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goldy/pseuds/Goldy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It has been one year, 9 months, and 21 days since Blair Waldorf has spoken to Serena van der Woodsen (written pre-5x24).</p>
            </blockquote>





	This is not a Fantasy

**Author's Note:**

> Written based on spoilers for the S5 finale. This is like... one-part angst and one-part total shipper wish fulfillment.

Rain spatters in a constant drum against Blair's umbrella but she barely notices; oblivious even to the water gushing over the top of her brand new Dolce & Gabbana shoes. In her hand she clutches a wet and rumpled yellow post-it note, the writing now runny and faded, nearly ineligible.

But she doesn't have to read it to know what it says.

_B, I know you're back in town. It's time we talked. Please._

_I'm staying at the Empire.  
S._

Blair crumples the note in her hand and then lets it drop, watching as the gushing water neatly sweeps it away and down the street. She turns her attention towards the Empire hotel; blinking rainwater out of her eyes. 

It has been one year, 9 months, and 21 days since Blair Waldorf has spoken to Serena van der Woodsen.

She's not sure she's ready to break her silence. 

****

She ends up in a coffee shop down the street; her soaked umbrella on the empty seat next to her. Her fingers feel like ice and she cradles a mug of coffee delicately in her hands, trying to warm them up.

Her phone buzzes and she picks it up, wincing.

_Spotted: Queen B, outside the Empire. Are we finally seeing a thaw between S and B? Or is this freeze only the beginning?_

Followed, of course, by a picture of Blair sitting alone in the café.

Blair sighs and sets her phone down. Well. Some things about New York City never change; no matter how long she's gone for. 

She sips her coffee and, suddenly, horrendously, feels entirely alone. 

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, releasing it slowly. She'd ended things with Chuck--again--nearly six months ago, firmly deciding that this time, _this time_ , she wouldn't go back to him. But there is something so dependable about being part of BlairandChuck; ChuckandBlair. Fate. Destiny. Whatever. Being with Chuck feels like being swept up in something bigger and she can only go along for the ride.

The problem is, that ride makes her feel powerless.

(After the Gossip Girl blast about Dan and Serena, she'd begged Chuck to take her away from it all. _Just as friends_ , she'd said. _Please._

 _Anywhere_ , he'd said. _I'll take you anywhere._

But they weren't friends; they had never been friends. They fucked each other through half of Europe before moving down through Africa. She'd explored local markets, visited schools, went on safaris, and fucked Chuck. 

And there was the night she drank too much and smoked something she shouldn't and Chuck didn't listen to her begging. _No please I'm too tired I feel sick I just want to sleep, no Chuck no please don't._ She woke up the next morning with bruises on her arms and a sick, aching feeling in her stomach.

Chuck watched her throw up and idly chided her for accepting smokes from the locals. 

It made her throw up harder.

Sometimes she still dreams of that night; of Chuck's breath panting on her face, his hands roughly holding her down while he pushed himself inside of her. _I love you, Blair_ he said. 

_Please stop_ , she'd said.

He hadn't.)

Sometimes, in her worst moments, she thinks that maybe Chuck Bass is exactly who she deserves.

But no. She's been trying so hard to come back from all of this. She's talked to Nate about working on a fashion column for _The Spectator_. She talked to the dean of Columbia and submitted a readmission form. She's even stayed out of the tabloid spotlight (the Grimaldi marriage is old news by now anyway). 

She is slowly putting her life back together.

And that should involve repairing her relationship with her best friend, she thinks with a sigh. With shaky legs, Blair pushes herself to her feet and grabs her umbrella. 

She turns around and then stops, suddenly face to face with--

"Blair, hi," says Serena, trying to muster up a smile and not doing a very good job. 

Blair slowly sets down her umbrella, then her purse. She honestly doesn't know if she wants to throw her arms around Serena or rip out her face with her fingernails.

She clamps down on the urge to do either and instead asks, "How did you find me?"

"Gossip Girl."

"Of course."

"I thought... I hoped that maybe you were on your way to see me."

Blair hesitates. "I was thinking about it."

Serena's forced smile falters. "Oh," she says, the disappointment evident in her tone. "I'm sorry. I can.... I can go."

But Serena's eyes meet hers, practically begging and Blair feels a lump in her throat. The urge to throw her arms around Serena comes back; stronger than the urge to throttle her.

Blair shakes her head and, suddenly trying hard not to cry, says, "No, I want you to stay." She pauses and looks away. "I miss you."

Serena makes a choked noise that could be a laugh and then her arms are wrapped tightly around Blair's neck. "Me too, B. So much."

****

They sit and talk for two hours. That is, Serena talks--she tells Blair about her five new jobs and how she was fired from them, about accidentally walking a runway at a fashion show with a dress from the previous year's line, and an endless litany of romantic attachments (Serena fell in love at least three times, but is careful to never say a name that starts with "D" or rhymes with "an" or ends in "iel"). 

Serena talks but Blair is evasive. Blair focuses on Europe and Africa--about the places she visited and the clothes she bought and the people she met. But not about Chuck; not about the last six months she spent on her own. There are some things about the last year that Blair isn't ready to share with anyone. 

Neither of them touch on the fact that Serena is the type of person who sleeps with her best friend's boyfriends.

It's only as they're paying for the coffee that Serena stops and takes her by the arm, her voice suddenly low and serious. "Blair, there's something you need to know."

This is it, Blair thinks suddenly, almost hysterically. This is about Dan. This is where Serena tells her that Dan's married, or worse, that he's forsaken Brooklyn to settle down in someplace even more pedestrian--like New Jersey. 

The thought makes her feel ill. 

"What is it?" Blair manages.

"The night you left town... that wasn't Dan with me on the video," say Serena in a rush. "I wanted you to think it was him--I was drunk and I was angry and I thought... I don't know what I thought."

Blair barely hears the end of that sentence. She grabs Serena's hands and forces her to stop. "Serena, are you saying... Dan didn't cheat on me?"

Serena shakes her head. "No." She pauses. "No--we kissed. But that's all, Blair. I swear. And he never would have if I hadn't--” she falters haltingly and then adds, "--he loved you so much, B. He wouldn't have done anything to hurt you on purpose."

Blair feels like something knocked the breath out of her; her legs are shaking so badly she can barely believe she's still standing. She tightens her grip on Serena's hands. "I thought..."

"We tried to tell you, but you weren't taking our calls and then you were out of the country. And you were with Chuck. Dan assumed you were back together."

Blair shuts her eyes. "Of course he did."

"I'm so sorry, Blair."

"I know," Blair whispers. She opens her eyes. "Where is he... I mean, is Dan doing okay?"

Serena shrugs. "He tried to move on. He came back from Rome with a new girlfriend."

"Oh," Blair says, and it hurts. It hurts so much that she almost can't breathe. 

"...but then she broke up with him when his new book was released. It was something about the pain and anguish of heartbreak? As an alternative history of New York. To be honest, I only read the back cover. I guess she must have been threatened."

"Serena," she says. She feels blind; like someone dropped her in a dark room and she can't find the door. "What do I do?"

"I think," says Serena, and she brushes a lock of hair behind Blair's ear, smiling sadly. "It might be time to tell Dan how you feel about him."

****

The car ride to Brooklyn takes an interminable length of time. She has nothing to do but fidget in the back seat and imagine what she'll say to him first. Should she apologize? He _did_ kiss Serena, but then again, she hadn't exactly given him time to explain. And she had run away with Chuck.

Maybe she should tell him about the things she learned while they were apart. About how she'd never really had a relationship like theirs before and how she thought love was supposed to be about the pain; about how being with someone should hurt almost as much as being without them. She could tell him about the thousand ways she missed him--she missed their banter and his absurdly terrible sense of fashion and his stupid hair and the way he always picked at her favourite movies and how he cared more about artistic direction than the overarching themes. She could tell him that she learned that love meant it was much, much worse to be apart than together. 

She thinks about telling him that going back to Chuck almost destroyed her ( _again_ ) and the night in Kenya she wishes she could forget. She thinks she might even be brave enough to say aloud that Chuck raped her, if it was Dan. She can picture the way his shoulders would tense; his hands would clench with pent-up anger on her behalf. She imagines how comforting it would be to not have to bear this alone and for someone else to hate Chuck so she doesn't have to. 

(It's not a particularly good reunion moment, though, is it. "Hello, Dan! I think Chuck might have raped me. Can we get back together?")

She imagines telling him about her plans for the future. About re-enrolling at Columbia and starting her own column at _The Spectator_. He would be so proud of her. 

****

Blair takes a deep breath and then raises her hand to knock. A few years ago, she would have barged right in--but... well, times have changed. 

She hears movement from inside the loft and her stomach jumps with nerves. She's feeling positively _giddy_. Her hands are shaking. 

(If someone had told Blair Waldorf ten years ago that the key to her happiness lived in a Brooklyn loft and was fond of flannel shirts, she would have laughed in their face and maybe rubbed yogurt on their shirt. 

Of course, ten years ago, Blair Waldorf thought it would always be Nate Archibald and that they would live a picture perfect life on the Upper East Side, a queen and king. 

Blair Waldorf is slowly learning that the best kind of love is the love that doesn't exist only as a fantasy.)

The door swings open and Dan is staring at her, brow furrowed with muffled confusion, then surprise, then something that looks like shock. 

"Blair?"

She says the first thing that pops into her head. "Your hair looks horrific, Humphrey."

He winces; though whether it's because she's insulted him or referred to him as "Humphrey" she isn't sure. He leans against the doorjamb, his mouth opening slightly like he's too dazed to respond. 

Blair decides to take matters into her own hands. She sweeps by him. "Thank you for inviting me in."

The loft is exactly like she remembers--though slightly emptier and less lived in. Rufus must have finally cleaned out his things. 

She turns around and Dan closes the door before leaning back against it like he isn't sure he trusts his legs. He's staring at her partly in suspicion and partly in fear, like maybe by just showing up, she has the power to crush him all over again. It makes her heart rate quicken-- she doesn't need to question whether or not Dan still loves her. It's all over his face. 

"Blair, what... what are you doing here?" 

"Serena told me what happened," she says. "I thought that you... I should have given you a chance to explain before I left."

Dan blinks in confusion, staring at her like he can't quite believe that she's real. (To be fair, she had just barged in on him in the middle of the night, rain soaked and bedraggled after almost two years of silence). But then he's moving towards her, his lips tugging upwards like he can't quite stop himself.

"You left the country with Chuck."

He doesn't sound accusatory; he's just stating a fact. He's still coming closer to her. She itches with the urge to reach out. Being in the same room with him again, it takes everything she has not to simply throw her arms around him and never let go.

"It's not like you think," Blair says thickly. Dan raises his eyebrows and so Blair amends, "It wasn't like what you and I had. Nothing has ever been like what you and I have."

He's finally in front of her and she backs up a step, back bumping into the kitchen counter. He feels taller now that he's so close. She turns her gaze up to meet his. 

"I'm sorry that it took so long for me to find myself," she says. _I'm sorry that I couldn't break free of Chuck for you_ , she thinks but doesn't add. She hopes there will be time for that conversation later. "But I think that I finally have."

His hands are on her shoulders and he presses his forehead against hers, breathing in deeply. It's like he can't hold himself back any longer. "Blair."

"Dan," she echoes back, leaning into him. His lips press against the corner of her mouth. "Dan--" she pulls back and touches his face. "I love you."

He smiles and then draws her closer, chest rumbling with a soft chuckle. "Now I'm not saying that I have pictured this moment--oh, maybe a few hundred times before--but only Blair Waldorf would burst into my apartment at midnight after two years of silence to profess her undying love for me."

She pushes against his chest. "I never said the word 'undying.' I think you got caught in one of your fantasies again."

"No. Never. The real thing is much..." he frames her face with his hands and presses a soft kiss to her mouth, "...much better."


End file.
